


60 Seconds

by Magicpepsi



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Almyra (Fire Emblem), Discrimination, F/M, Mild Blood, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Soulmate AU, like it’s barely there but justincase, trigger warning for vomiting, when I get around to writing the other chapters lol
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-05
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:07:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21685756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magicpepsi/pseuds/Magicpepsi
Summary: Once every month, soulmates get to see through each other’s eyes for 60 seconds until they meet for the first time. It happens unexpectedly and neither of the pair knows when it will happen.
Relationships: My Unit | Byleth/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 49
Kudos: 402





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My first fic posted here. I had to do something for this couple and writing seemed like a wonderful idea. I saw the soulmate prompt on insta so. Enjoy :)

When Claude was young, his mother often told stories of her soulmate experiences. She spoke of a land with wide open fields and clear skies that stretched on seemingly forever. She described bustling markets full of smiling people with long dark hair and twinkling eyes, and tall buildings made of earth and stone that intimidated and intrigued her. She spun hilarious tales of meeting loud, boisterous nobles (who would turn out to be his uncles and cousins) who laughed and ate and danced long after the sun had fallen and risen and fallen again.

Then one day, his mother was given a sight she recognized. It was of the mountains to the east of the Leicester Alliance. It was then she realized that her soulmate was across Fódlan’s Throat, across the border, in the land of Almyra.

Did she weep having figured out that she and the person tied to her soul were on opposing sides? Did she resign herself to fate and live in despair, never getting the chance to meet whoever was on the other side of her mind?

Abso-fucking-lutely not.

Duchess von Reigan took a horse, the clothes on her back, and the only global map in the Reigan estate and rode to Fódlan’s Throat under the cover of night. Fortunately, her soulmate was of the same mind and they met at a border town in Almyra. There, his mother had met his father, the former crowned prince of Almyra. 

Claude had always admired his mother for her bravery. He always told himself that if he needed the courage to cross the border to be with his soulmate, he would do it just like her. He’d have the same determination as she did. 

That changed later on.

Claude’s first soulmate instance happened when he was about six or seven years old. He couldn’t remember exactly. What he did remember was that he was being chased in the market by his older cousin (who was about thirteen) and two of his friends. He was caught pathetically easily.

When he was cornered, he had the feeling that he was being watched, but when he looked around, he didn’t see anyone besides his aggressors

His mother explained that his soulmate connection would happen without him knowing. But right now, Claude felt that his soulmate, wherever they were, could see what he was seeing. 

If so, he felt really bad for what they were about to witness.

“Nowhere left to run, half-breed,” one of his cousin’s lackeys spat. The other was a little too eager and almost rushed him, but his cousin held him back. 

“You’ll pay for that little stunt you pulled!” The eager one shouted.

Claude couldn’t help the smart remark that came from his lips. “If I had known that hairy mammal was actually you mother...well, I wouldn’t have really done anything different.”

He didn’t do anything extremely harmful anyway. Just a misplaced tub of honey and the release of the royal hunting dogs. To be fair, her hair looked much better styled with dog saliva. And Claude did _not_ know that one canine would start to hump her. But it was pretty hilarious.

Surprisingly, his cousin was the first to strike him across the face. Claude fell against the crates behind him.

“It’s hard to believe that filth like you could have a soulmate,” his cousin grabbed Claude’s chin and forced his gaze toward him. When soulmates peeked in on the other’s lives, their eye color changed. He couldn’t see it, but Claude knew his eyes weren’t their usual color. 

“I pity you,” he wasn’t speaking to Claude anymore, as he stared deeply into his eyes. “To be the soulmate of a good-for-nothing like him, it’s probably the worst thing that can happen to a person. I wouldn’t be surprised if they ran at the sight of you.”

Claude spit in his face as a response. His cousin recoiled but his expression remained scary calm. He wiped away the offensive substance with his sleeve and looked Claude right in the eye. He sighed heavily, like a tired parent who’s scolding their child, and lifted Claude by his shirt collar.

“You don’t deserve a soulmate. Your cowardice spreads like a disease. All you do is run away. We’re here to remind you of the difference between us true Almyrans and whatever hole you crawled out of, _half-breed_.”

As his cousin’s fist descended on his face, Claude’s eyes switched back to their natural verdant green.

* * *

Jeralt didn’t talk much about her mother.

Byleth never resented him for it. She figured that if her father wanted to talk about it, he would one day. Sometimes, she would do or say something that would put a certain expression on Jeralt’s face, like he had been smacked in the face and was realizing something for the first time. Then he would say, “You remind me so much of your mother,” and that’s as much information as Byleth would get.

She always thought that thinking of her mother would put Jeralt in pain. He might’ve loved her so much that it actually hurt. Byleth didn’t really understand what that meant but it’s what her father’s mercenaries would say when they would return from taverns that had special services with the lady servers.

Byleth did, however, chance one question on her father.

“Was she your soulmate?” She had asked.

Jeralt had looked at her with an expression she couldn’t read. He was back in time again.

He graced his daughter with a small smile and responded simply, “Yes, she was.”

It was left at that.

Byleth didn’t know her age when she had her first soulmate incident. She was lucky it happened off the battlefield.

It was a day off for her father and the mercenaries. They had taken up temporary residence at a village in the Empire. Jeralt was running her through her daily sword training when she felt a strange tug at the back of her mind. It was like someone was tapping on her shoulder, trying to draw her attention somewhere she couldn’t see. She instinctively looked over her shoulder and, suddenly, she wasn’t training with her father anymore.

Byleth almost jumped the person in front of her when she realized she couldn’t move any of her limbs. Then, she recognized this as her soulmate connection. Her father told her that she would begin to see through another person’s eyes once a month for sixty seconds. If this person was to be her soulmate, she may as well learn as much as she can about them.

They seemed to be in an alley though Byleth didn’t recognize the surroundings. She hasn’t been to a lot of places in Fódlan so this could be anywhere, even a land far beyond the borders. The thought of her soulmate being so far away that it was unidentifiable made Byleth a little sad. The feeling disappeared as quickly as it came.

Three boys, tan skin with dark hair and ferocious eyes, towered over her and her soulmate and spoke in a language she couldn’t understand. Their words were quick and harshly spat, making her wonder if they were insulting her soulmate or if that was just the language.

She heard her soulmate say something. The tallest boy smacked her soulmate across the face. 

Byleth felt something stir in her chest. Something she didn’t like.

More words were thrown in her soulmate’s face. A fist was raised and on a crash course for her face when the connection ended, and Byleth was brought back to her own body. She stumbled back, expecting a hit.

A firm grip caught her shoulder and she looked into her father’s eyes. They were flooded with concern.

“You ok kiddo?”

Byleth nodded.

“You spaced out and your eyes changed color. Did you see your soulmate?”

Technically, no but. “Yes.” And she told him everything she saw. Even the foreign tongue they spoke.

Jeralt’s brows lifted as he nodded to what she was saying. “Sounds like your soulmate is in a pretty far away place.”

“Do you know where it is?” She inquired.

_Was she excited?_ Jeralt rubbed at the top of his head, “I can’t really tell. We’ll have to wait until next time.”

Until next time. Until her next soulmate connection in another month. She hoped her soulmate would be alright.

She nodded, resigned.

Jeralt exhaled through his nose, a silent laugh, as he patted Byleth’s head. “Don’t just nod solemnly, By. You’ll get to see them soon.”

He pushed himself up from kneeling in front of his daughter with a long-suffering sigh and a mumbled ‘I’m getting up in the years,’ before he said to Byleth, “Let’s go take a break right now. You look like you could use it.”

Byleth wordlessly held out her hands.

“You know, you’re getting a little too old to be carried by your old man.”

She just stared.

“Fine. Come ‘ere.”

She was hoisted on her father’s shoulders in less than a second, and the duo made their way into town. Byleth stopped him with another question, this time, verbally.

“What color were my eyes?”

“They were green,” he answered. “Like pine needles.”


	2. Chapter 2

Time seemed to slip through Byleth’s finger. She would travel with her father, train, more traveling, accept jobs from desperate nobles, and get in skirmishes. The days blended together.

There was one thing that framed her days: her soulmate connection. However, it wasn’t at all like she thought it would be.

Every time she was given the chance to look through their eyes, she was met with darkness. Her soulmate was purposefully covering their eyes.

But why?

She only got to see glimpses, lavish hallways, a busy market, a white wyvern, before her sight was blocked. Her hearing didn’t help either, only the foreign language filled her ears.

Even so, Byleth didn’t cover her eyes. Whatever her soulmate is going through, she hoped they would come to trust her eventually. For now, she’ll go on as she normally does.

She did get one whole sight, the entire sixty seconds, once. It was early evening and the band was winding down for the day. Byleth felt the metaphorical tap on her shoulder and let her connection take over.

In an instant, like a blink, her vision shifted and she was looking at the night sky. The millions of twinkling stars against the dark blue sky was always a breathtaking sight.

Her soulmate must not have known she was watching with them. A dark-skinned hand stretched outward, like it was trying to reach for the stars. Then, the hand moved again and made patterns in the sky. Byleth realized that her soulmate was tracing constellations.

It was strange to watch. For months, Byleth saw nothing, and now she was watching what was probably an intimate moment alone for her soulmate. All she could do was follow their hand.

At the end of her connection and when night finally fell, Byleth crawled out of her tent and stared up at the sky. She recalled the pattern her soulmate’s hand followed and tried to mimic it. She had no idea what she was doing or if she was tracing the right stars, but she felt a little closer to them.

Maybe one day they could teach her about the stars.

-

It was another day. Jeralt’s mercenaries had accepted a job in the Kingdom. Some bandits were causing trouble in the villages near Gaspard territory. They were hired to flush them out.

It was a standard battle. And it was the first one Byleth would indirectly participate in.

Her job was to make sure none of the villagers got caught in the crossfires. She was to help other members of the band evacuate them.

A bandit followed her into one of the houses without her notice. There was a woman and a young boy, couldn’t be older than her, cowering in a corner.

Byleth did as she was told, she spoke calmly, explained who she was, and urged them out a back door or window.

Then, there was a battle cry. The bandit raised his axe to strike Byleth but she dodged. The rest was a blur to her.

She was towering over the bandit, now dead and bleeding on the floor. She didn’t see the blood splattered on herself.

She turned back towards the family and told them to leave again. They left without a word.

Byleth saw the family once more when her father and his men ran off the rest of the bandits. A few of the villagers had gathered to offer them food and a place to rest as payment for helping them. Jeralt was helpless to the yells of approval from his men.

A small feast was held at the town’s inn that night. Food was dished out at lightening speed (Byleth will never understand how it came out so quickly and still tasted so good), goblets were never emptied, and noisy chatter filled the room. The sight of it all made Byleth feel a little warm in her chest.

The child of the family she saved suddenly approached her.

“Hi,” he smiled at her.

“Hello,” she responded back.

“Whatcha doin’?”

Byleth blinked, “Nothing.”

“That sounds boring. Wanna come play?” He gestured back to a group of kids, two boys and a girl. They were all watching them with rapt attention.

The small upturn of Byleth’s lips was practically invisible, but it was there. Before she could agree to go with him, a hushed voice called over the boy.

“Raven!” It was the boy’s mother. Her eyes were bulging out of her sockets and she said through gritted teeth, “Come here.”

The boy, Raven, tentatively went back to his mother, shooting uncertain glances back at Byleth.

She didn’t hear anything the older woman said, her voice was quiet but firm and warning. The mother looked at each child as if waiting for confirmation, and when they all nodded, they were whisked away. They casted curious looks back at her before they disappeared behind a door.

Byleth stared at the door in silence. She turned to her father. He was looking at her strangely. He looked disappointed but not at her.

She never found out that her eyes were green at the time.

* * *

As Claude returned to his body, he was met with the clear, blue Almyran sky he cherished so much. A breeze passed by, rustling the sea of grass that surrounded him.

He recognized the look that woman gave his soulmate. It was one he was unfortunately familiar with. It was a mix of fear, contempt, skepticism.

Distrust.

And as the voices of his father and Nader drew closer, no doubt here to scold him for skipping out on another one of his lessons, a single thought echoed in Claude’s mind.

He was an idiot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope everyone enjoyed their holidays! Y’all are honestly so kind for showing this so much love. I wrote it with the intention to continue it but, ya know, I had no idea what to do lol. I’ve rewritten this chapter a couple of times before I finally decided that I needed an outline cuz I was basically driving blind.
> 
> I am happy to say, however, that I do have somewhat of an outline (my New Years resolution is to write more and actually post stuff hehe) and it will be continuing until Claude an Byleth meet. This won’t be very long, maybe 5 chapters?
> 
> Who knows. The future is not written.
> 
> Anyway, thanks again for the love and support for this. I wanna fight you all with hearts and love :3 
> 
> (Also, this was finished at 2 AM and barely edited so I take no responsibility for whatever you find ok? Ok goodnight)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yall really let me go a whole year without updating? wild. trigger warning for vomiting. stay safe out there

Claude had started to cover his eyes less. He still wore his headband everywhere, just in case, but he was slowly coming around to accepting his soulmate. He didn’t think he believed in the universe and its ability to choose his lifelong companion but he couldn’t deny his feelings of empathy towards his soulmate.

It was a weird feeling to know that someone else in the world had the same pains as him, that someone was experiencing a similar kind of suffering as him. It was a sort of wake up call. The world was so much bigger than just Claude. There were people out there who faced similar problems to him. They needed help. They needed a place to belong, to be accepted. Just like him and his soulmate.

His mind drifted back to his soulmate. What kind of person was she (he felt his face flush at the memory of how he found _that_ out)? How did she feel about that one night when the kid’s parents wouldn’t let them play with her? And why did that happen to her? What made her so different from the other people in her own country? From what the people of Almyra have said, Fódlan was full of a bunch of cowards who couldn’t fight for themselves, but that couldn’t have been farther from the truth. His own mother was proof of that, and now, he had a soulmate that went against that thinking as well. Maybe she was feared for her strength?

Claude smiled almost fondly. She was strong, incredibly so. He once watched her take down a man twice her size and barely break a sweat. It was the foolish brigand’s fault anyway, he had underestimated her and paid the price for it. That was the kind of strength Almyrans valued. It was the kind he wanted to obtain for himself. With that kind of power, he could easily—

_Thunk!_

A throwing axe embedded itself in Claude’s desk, right in front of him. He looked down at it, unfazed.

“That’s the third time this week,” he mumbled to himself. He pried it out of the wood and pretended to lament the poor desk.

“Well, _Your Highness_ , if you would pay attention to the lesson instead of staring out the window, this wouldn’t happen as often.”

Claude looked up at the crazy ax thrower, Rasheem, his tutor. He wasn’t as beefy as most Almyran warriors but still just as broad and solid, and what he lacked in strength, he made up for in brains. His sharp amber eyes hid probably thousands of strategies waiting to be used in battle. As his father’s trusted tactician, he was invaluable to the Almyran army.

He was smart, cunning, observant, as deadly on a chessboard as he was on the battlefield, and he was Claude’s hero.

Right now, he was Claude’s worst enemy.

They were in the Almyran palace’s great library, the usual place for Claude’s academic lessons. Although the young prince was always eager to learn, the place felt too stuffy and full of dust today. He cast a longing gaze back outside, to the brilliant blue sky that promised a beaming sun and ideal winds for flying. His body suddenly felt constrained and his feet bounced around.

“And what’s with that look on your face?” Rasheem tugged on his ward’s braid to steer his attention back to him, “You’re not planning anything dastardly, are you?”

Claude shoved him away with a grin, “If I was, I wouldn’t let you in on it.”

“If? That’s good then,” he plucked the throwing axe out of the young royal’s hand. “Wouldn’t want you getting dragged behind your father’s horse again now, would we?”

Claude made sure to overdo his eye roll. No one was ever going to let him live that moment down. His mother still laughed about it after two months.

“Now start paying attention. We don’t have very long until lunch and I want to get through this lesson.” Rasheem casually tossed his throwing ax into the air and caught it by the handle.

The Prince of Almyra groaned as he slouched dramatically in his chair. “But it’s such a nice day outside. Why can’t we go do something fun, like archery training?”

“No. Your combat lessons are tomorrow. Besides, it would be better to train in unfavorable weather conditions.”

“Yeah, maybe, but some battles do take place on a nice day. The kind that makes you wanna fall asleep at your desk.” He let the end of his sentence get eaten by a yawn that he didn’t even bother to cover.

“Don’t make me throw the ax again…” Claude exhaled a laugh through his nose when he saw his tutor take a large breath to avoid catching his yawn.

“If we go train, I promise I’ll pay attention to your lesson on...” Claude paused and shamelessly glanced down at the book in front of him, “economics.”

That got a laugh out of Rasheem. “Alright, alright. I guess there’s nothing wrong with leaving for an early break. Let’s go to the training yard, I’m sure we’ll find Nader and your father already there.”

-

“Who knew the Queen would be present as well?” Rasheem sounded out of breath.

Who knew his mother would get in a fist fight with Nader today? Claude laughed as he recalled what happened.

The two of them walked into a match between his father and Nader, spectated by his mother. When Rasheem mentioned training Claude, his mother and Nader both jumped up, eager to instruct. They taunted each other about who was better at shooting a bow which turned into a full on argument about how to properly shoot. His father, failing horribly at holding back laughs, said that “all fights are settled with your hands.” So, Nader and his mother got into a brawling match to prove who was right. 

Which, really, was just the funniest thing Claude had ever seen. 

This tiny woman who barely reached Nader’s shoulders brought him down like he wasn’t an undefeated Almyran general.

“There’s a reason you’re a general and I’m the queen _,_ Nader.” She had said with a self-satisfied smirk.

Gods, but his mother was terrifying. She was Claude’s second hero.

Unfortunately, the sparring match had cut into their lunch time so Rasheem, cranky from hunger, decided to just end their day early and go into town. Claude literally backflipped off a wall and whooped in celebration. After donning a simple hood and headband for a disguise, Claude and Rasheem were off.

Claude loved walking through the Almyran marketplace. It was always lively with lots of people that he could easily slip through and escape from any pursuers. With the large number of people, no one cared who he was, barely anyone spared him a second glance when he dressed commonly. For just a few moments, he was accepted among his people.

Not to mention all the delicious food at the different stalls. Roasted pheasants with vegetables, stuffed grape leaves, chicken and lamb dripping in berry sauce, rice and meatballs and fish and meat skewers and even the sweets were delectable, though Claude preferred savory foods.

Rasheem exhaled loudly after taking a swig from his goblet. Claude suspected his drink to be some kind of alcohol.

“That really hit the spot, Your Highness,” he exclaimed. “We should’ve ended your lessons earlier!”

Claude hummed in agreement as he munched on a rice cookie. “I’m all for ending my lessons early. And stop calling me ‘Your Highness’. You know I don’t like that.”

“But you are the prince and, thus, I must address you as such. Would you rather I start calling you ‘kiddo’ like Nader?”

Claude made a face that caused his tutor to laugh. “Call me anything but ‘kiddo’ or ‘Your Highness.’”

“Whatever you say, _my prince._ ”

When Claude shot him a look, Rasheem grinned wickedly and threw him a wink. They continued walking in companionable silence when the older Almyran asked:

“Why don’t you like being called Your Highness?”

 _Ah, so that’s your angle,_ Claude thought. Rasheem always slipped into Fódlan’s language whenever he thought the conversation between them would turn serious. He knew how guarded Claude was after the attempts on his life and the threats made by his own family. He had to be careful of who he trusted.

Switching languages was an effective way to dodge eavesdroppers. The only people that would understand them were his parents and Nader who were all currently hidden away behind the castle walls.

It was just the two of them.

“It’s just an annoying title. You should try making up your own nickname for me. That would be a lot more personal, don’t you think?”

His attempts at deflection would not work on Rasheem. The tutor narrowed his golden eyes. Claude always imagined them piercing right through him and into his soul, seeing him for all that he really is. A scared child who’s in an impossible position. “Are you sure there’s no underlying reason?”

“There’s none, whatsoever.” His voice was stone as his eyes avoided his tutor’s.

They continued down the path for a while longer.

Rasheem broke the silence again, still in Fódlan. “I know it’s difficult for you to believe, but there are people in this world that you can rely on. Your parents, Nader, and me. We all care about you and want to protect you.”

Claude finally made eye contact with the tactician and saw his eyes soften. A small yet sincere smile graced his lips. “You don’t have to be so defensive around us. You can trust us.”

Claude took a deep breath. Rasheem was right. There were people on his side. He wasn’t entirely alone against the world even if it felt like it at times. His parents, Nader, Rasheem, and even his nameless soulmate over the mountain range. They would stick by him.

“You’re right,” Claude resigned. “Sorry, I guess I’ve still got some walls up.”

Rasheem clapped him on the shoulder. “It’s alright. I don’t blame you for it.”

“I know my father has a lot of expectations of me. When the time comes, I’ll have to fight my other siblings for the throne. I may even have to kill some of them. It’s what I’m training and studying for.” Rasheem nodded, urging Claude on.

He continued, “But I know no one wants me on that throne. It’s why everyone is trying to get rid of me. And I can’t say this to my father because he’ll be disappointed, and I know my mom will just get mad at me for giving up, but I’ve gotten so tired of just bottling the truth up, Rasheem.

“Because the truth is, I don’t want to be king.”

* * *

_I don’t want to be king._

Those were the last words Byleth heard. They rang in her ear, echoing in her mind and bouncing from one corner to the other. 

Her soulmate was a prince. A prince of Almyra. And he spoke her language this whole time? A part of her was probably upset about that fact but she couldn’t tell.

He was going to be the king. But he didn’t want to be the king. That was understandable since he was technically still a child. But he didn’t want to tell anyone except this older man with him. Was it because he didn’t want to upset his parents, the king and queen?

And did he say he would have to kill people for the throne? Was it not just passed down to the oldest child?

She needs more information on Almyra.

“Byleth,” her father stuck his head into her tent, “time to go. We’re moving out.”

“Jeralt.” The man paused at his name. Byleth noted his visible discomfort but asked her question anyway.

“Do you know anything about Almyra?”

He didn’t, and information on Almyra turned out to be frustratingly limited wherever they traveled. The most Byleth learned was that Almyra was to the east of the Leicester Alliance, over the mountain range that served as a border. The people of Almyra were described as barbaric savages who ruthlessly attacked the innocent Fódlans and disrespected their beloved goddess. Trade with them was heavily restricted. They were brutes. They broke treaties. They were not to be trusted. They stole her son’s cat.

They weren’t based on facts so Byleth ignored most of it. There were plenty of men among her father’s mercenaries who matched the descriptions of Almyrans; broad, burly, and covered in battle scars. Byleth got along with all of them. They were just people, the same as her and Jeralt.

Her soulmate was an Almyran prince. She wanted to know more about him. Thus, she would have to wait.

One month later, Byleth experienced her first Soulmate Dream. It was a product of her soulmate connection, her father explained. If she went to sleep but her soulmate was still awake, it was possible she would still see through his eyes, like a dream where she wasn’t in her own body. There was even a slim chance they would share dreams. They also tended to be a lot more intense than her regular sightings, Jeralt warned. Any kind of sensation, emotional or physical, would be greatly enhanced because her body was solely tuned in to her soulmate.

That night, Byleth experienced a torrent of sensations, both physical and emotional. She never forgot about it.

It was dark, late at night for her soulmate. There was so much noise around him. Voices shouted and spoke too quickly for her to follow along. The lights around her were too bright.

He was on the floor, she realized, clutching his stomach. Suddenly, a hand was in his mouth and fingers were shoved down his throat. His stomach— _her stomach_ —lurched violently and then, it emptied itself right in front of him. The sour taste stuck to the inside of her mouth. The putrid smell invaded her nostrils and burned her eyes. Tears blurred her vision and threatened to fall.

Her soulmate was sick. He had ingested something and someone was helping him regurgitate it. Her stomach felt heavy and like it was on fire. She wanted him to throw up again, get rid of the feeling and anything undesirable that didn’t make it out.

A harsh voice called to them. They looked up. Byleth took in as much detail as she could; a table lavished with unfamiliar dishes, long drapes that towered as high as the ceiling, glazed masonry walls, chairs pushed aside and one knocked over. The voice who called to her came from a man being escorted away by two guards clothed in robes, so much lighter than what she had seen mercenaries and knights in Fódlan wear.

She had seen this man before in several other soulmate sightings, teaching her soulmate archery, scolding him for reasons she couldn’t understand, playing chess with him, talking, laughing, sharing intimate moments.

_I don’t want to be king._

“I thought you’d be grateful, _Your Highness_.” The man spat. Byleth was almost surprised that she understood him until she realized he was speaking her language.

He struggled against his captors, “Why are you taking me away? I was only helping him! He said it himself. He doesn’t want to be king! He hates the Almyrans. He’d rather disappear from the world than lead these good people! Don’t remember that, _my prince_? Don’t you remember saying that?!”

 _No. That’s not true_ , Byleth didn’t know where those thoughts came from. The tears in her eyes thickened and a feeling in her chest tightened, making her feel like she was choking. She feared that her soulmate might have something stuck in his throat.

“And why would you want to? The people of Almyra _don’t want you._ They never wanted you. And I suppose that’s what’ll haunt you for the rest of your life, isn’t it? That there’s no place for you here. _That there’s no place for you anywhere!_ ”

The man was dragged away, yelling more obscenities and repeating the same words. Byleth’s—her soulmate’s—stomach clenched again with a new feeling. Something deeper that felt more like it was in her chest. It was like she had been stabbed with a cold, sharp dagger, but there were no wounds on her soulmate’s chest.

He vomited again, letting the bile fall to the floor and stain his pants. The tears finally fell, hot and thick and fast, partly due to the pain in his stomach and partly due to another pain Byleth wouldn’t be able to properly name until the next day when she woke up, tears pooled at her eyes.

Betrayal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the super late update .-. Ya know how it goes, life happens, you end up doubting, you write and rewrite, and then you buy a dumb game about living with anthropomorphic animals on an island (did i use that word right? *quickly googles*)
> 
> ANYWAYS, I hope you can forgive me for that. I will also ask for forgiveness for the changes in formatting or any confusion on whose (who's?) POV it is. Please bear with me, still trying to figure out how to work this website. Don't be afraid to tell me if it gets confusing
> 
> For those wondering, I have not abandoned this story. I just thought I could write all the chapters and then post them at a scheduled time butt that didn't work out ^^; sew I'm working at my own pace. Don't wanna stress you know?
> 
> Also, can't believe yall still gave kudos and commented. You're real ones fo dat
> 
> Welp, it's been real. See you guys next time


End file.
